The End of the Day

How would it feel to be stuck behind the counter everyday, not performing requests but taking orders and doing demands? To be yelled at and cursed at and made fun of behind your back - or actually, right in front of your face, because the only time you'd turn around would be to type in some stuff on a computer.

A particular pink-haired lady know what that feels like. Seeing PokeBalls being slammed onto the counter, the creatures they contain tired and weary, often injured as well. She used to take pride in what she does and feel sorry for the critters - and she still feels sorry for them - but after a while, it got to be quite tiring.

This lady is cursed with this lifestyle. Ever since her grandmother discovered her natural talent, healing Pokemon, every generation after her has had to deal with the look-alikeness, the same talent, which they finally found out that they could make machines do the same thing, and the same will to help injured Pokemon.

She has 10 sisters, 10 aunts, 10 cousins, 10 older cousins, and 10 great aunts, all working for the same company: Pokemon Centers. Because of their heritage, they are never turned down for the jobs they were born to do. In a tournament of rock-paper-scissors, she came in fifth out of ten and therefore wasn't chosen to be the one to settle down and get married and have kids who look exactly like her and not her husband. So one of her sisters, Joy, had her own kids who are growing up right now, and once they do, they will take over the next region's Pokemon Centers.

She had to admit, though, she was actually glad she wasn't chosen to be the one to marry and have kids. Otherwise, she would've had to deal with them growing up and her missing it, being stuck in the Center all day. She would have to divorce her husband because he wouldn't understand the pain she was going through while being held captive behind the counter.

But tonight was the last straw. She had to do something about this pent up rage and anger. It was beginning to tear at her insides, threatening to break her apart.

And it was just a little kid, too.

He came into the Center, texting on his Xtransceiver, and when we walked up to the counter, bumping into it at first, he finished his text and sent it while she muttered the traditional greeting, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out four PokeBalls and slammed them onto the desk, demanding that she heal his hurt Pokemon.

This didn't bother her too much - she was used to the disrespect, naturally - but what he did next bothered her a little bit more.

He pulled his Xtransceiver back out and began typing in a number, listening to the ringer. As she placed the Balls on the platform and started to type in the command "Heal," the kid turned the hat on his head 180 degrees and said hello to his friend on the other line, also a little kid, but a girl. Obviously somebody he was trying to impress. He put the call on speaker and the nurse couldn't do anything but listen to him as he continued on with the conversation.

"Whatcha doin'?" the voice on the other end asked curiously. The boy in front of the counter turned the phone to the side so that she could see the nurse.

"Waitin' for this old coot to heal my Pokemon," he replied coolly.

Old coot? She was barely twenty-five years old. She let it slide, though, because this kid only looked to be about ten years old and he obviously hadn't learned any manners from his parents yet - as if he ever would. Besides, once the machine healed his Pokemon, she'd never have to see him again.

A scoff came from the other end of the Xtransceiver and then the girl said, "Oh. It's one of those Nurse Joys again. They're so annoying."

Once again, she kept quiet, even though every bone in her body was telling her to scream at that girl for pronouncing her name wrong. It was pronounced Joy, not Joy. Everybody got that wrong. And that annoyed her.

Finally the machine stopped flashing, which meant the Pokemon were done resting. "Thank you for waiting. Your Pokemon are fully healed." The phrase made her cringe inside.

The boy didn't care at all, though, and just took his PokeBalls back and went on his way away from the counter.

"We hope to see you again!"

He made a face at her, hiding the Xtransceiver, before finally exiting through the door and made it ding again.

...

There had been several other incidents that day that caused her to become upset, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Some more texters, some more callers, some more people who hadn't realized that the Pokemon were done healing and kept talking to her. And then there were the creepy old dudes who came just to flirt with her for about ten minutes each.

But she realized she couldn't handle it anymore. When she returned home for the night - night shifts during the weekdays were at last prohibited - she went straight down to the basement to retrieve something she thought she'd never have to use again.

The blowup Chansey dolls that were banned from Pokemon Centers because of dangers with kids now. Every Nurse Joy had at least five, just in case one popped and she needed a backup.

She popped the tube into it and began pumping air, trying to get it to the biggest size possible. Once it was, she smiled deviously and began thinking about where to put it. She decided it would look best in an abandoned corner, and so that's where it sat.

Then she began punching and kicking it mercilessly, mocking herself and the traditional welcomes and greetings and phrases that annoyed her to no end everyday.

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokemon Center!" she said, left jabbing its head.

"We restore your Pokemon to full health!" she mocked, kicking in its stomach.

"OK, I'll take your Pokemon for a few seconds." She mimicked the machine's humming noises and then kicked the Chansey doll's stomach again.

"We hope to see you again!" She finished with a quick fist-kick combination to the head.

And the Chansey doll never fought back.

...

"Hey, can you heal my Pokemon?"

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokemon Center. We restore your Pokemon to full health," Nurse Joy recited, not really paying attention to the girl in front of the counter, holding her precious Piplup in her hands as it lay still, not breathing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know all of that already! Heal my Pingo, please!" the girl insisted, handing the nurse her Pokemon and a PokeBall.

"OK, I'll take your Pokemon for a few seconds," Joy insisted, annoying the girl now. She did as she was supposed to, though, and called the penguin back to its Ball and put it on the machine's platform to heal it.

But whatever she went through throughout the day she'd make up for when she got home to the blowup Chansey doll.

And that calmed her.

A/N: This is obviously not my usual writing style. If the title/content didn't give it away, it's supposed to be crack. If it doesn't fit the category...I guess I can just flip tables. I wrote it in like an hour, so there ya go.

Anyway, enjoy! Hopefully.

~CGA